


Black and Blue and Happy

by flecksofpoppy



Series: A Little Faith-verse Companion Pieces [5]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: A Little Faith-verse, Alternate Universe - 1990s, BDSM, Bertolt likes spanking, Consent Positive, I'm gross and sappy, Kink Exploration, M/M, Reibert - Freeform, Reiner likes sappy stuff, Romance, Safe Sane and Consensual, Spanking, Vanilla, but they love each other more than anything, kink positive, oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-08 13:41:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1943280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flecksofpoppy/pseuds/flecksofpoppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reiner and Bertolt explore some kinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set somewhere in the "Scrapbook Planning" timeline, when Reiner and Bertolt are still exploring their kinks, and getting more ambitious. Uh, this was supposed to be Bertolt getting spanked, and then turned into a two-part my version of a PWP... "Porn With Plot." These dorks like to talk.

Bertolt is lying face down on the bed—diagonally, since he won’t fit otherwise—and his arms are secured above his head, wrists tied together to the bed frame. His ankles are encircled firmly in cuffs which are fastened to a spreader bar.

Reiner hadn’t been able to picture any of this when Bertolt first suggested it—as in, Reiner had asked what one of his fantasies was, and this was it—but now that he’s here, it’s possibly the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

Reiner presses a kiss against the back of Bertolt’s head, and gently rests a hand at the small of his back. Bertolt flinches, already highly sensitized and strung with adrenaline.

“What’s the word?”

He’s checked five times in the last five minutes—if anything, Reiner is more nervous about doing this than Bertolt, and he’s not even the one getting tied down and spanked.

“Colossal,” Bertolt immediately replies. It’s a word that can’t be missed if he says it. “And what might I do?”

Reiner strokes Bertolt’s spine gently with his fingertips. “Beg and cry and tell me to stop.”

“But what are you not supposed to do?”

“Stop.”

“Unless?”

“You say ‘colossal.’” Reiner presses a kiss to Bertolt’s shoulder blade. “And say you’ve been bad and deserve to be punished... but _not_ call you...”

“A slut,” Bertolt finishes softly. “Exactly.”

Reiner doesn’t actually think he could ever bring himself to do that, even for Bertolt—if Reiner has a limit he’d define as such, that would be it. And he’s learning that it’s also okay for him to have limits, too.

“You’ve been bad because you burned dinner last night.”

Bertolt starts to laugh. “I didn’t burn dinner, and—” He’s cut off as Reiner gives a light swat to his ass; it’s supposed to be a joke, but the way Bertolt immediately moans and rubs himself against the bed tells Reiner how much he really wants this.

“You ready?” Reiner asks.

“Yeah,” Bertolt whispers, his entire body tensing.

Reiner just watches as his ass tenses, and he swats him gently.

Bertolt’s back immediately arches against the mattress, and the bed shakes.

“You’ve been very bad,” Reiner starts, landing an open-palmed slap against Bertolt’s left buttocks, keeping it light, “because you did burn dinner. And you deserve to be punished.”

“I’m sorry,” Bertolt whines. “Please don’t hurt me.”

Reiner lands another slap, this time adding a little more force. “I don’t care,” he growls, and he hears Bertolt’s breath hitch as he wraps one of his hands around a hip tightly. He knows Bertolt loves it when he shows his strength, and he gets a whimper as a reward. “You’re going to take your punishment and like it.”

He lands another slap, a little harder this time, and the entire bed bounces. The sound of his palm against the tender skin of Bertolt’s ass is intoxicating, and he realizes he’s already enjoying this more than he thought he would.

He starts to alternate between both of Bertolt’s buttocks, keeping his strokes steady and light, until Bertolt’s ass has turned bright red.

Reiner knows it’s gone from a sting to actual pain when Bertolt gives a hoarse whimpers and instinctively strains to pull away, and he resists the urge to immediately withdraw. This is all on Bertolt’s terms, and this is what he wants.

“Do you know how good you look, all spread out for me?” he asks, feeling a little inspired, since Bertolt really _does_ look pretty good, all spread out for him. He lands another harsh slap, putting some backbone into it; that gets a loud yelp, and he smiles a little. “You can’t move your legs, can’t move your arms.” _Smack, smack._

The last two hits are so hard, that he pauses; but Bertolt doesn’t say the word, so he keeps going. 

“Up on your knees,” he commands his a harsh, uncompromising voice as he unfastens the ankle cuffs and pushes the spreader bar away, “so you can stick your ass out and really feel what you deserve.”

Bertolt whimpers, and then moans as Reiner helps him to kneel and press his chest awkwardly against the bed, off balance since his arms are stretched out in front of him.

“That’s right,” Reiner growls, landing another harsh slap against Bertolt’s very red ass, “face pressed into the mattress, taking it the way you should.”

He’s going to be so bruised tomorrow, and for some reason, that just turns Reiner on more. 

Every time Reiner lands his hand now, Bertolt’s entire body quakes, and he shudders and lets out weak, pained cries.

“Tell me how much you deserve it,” Reiner prompts, pausing in his rhythm so Bertolt doesn’t know when it’s coming.

“I deserve it,” Bertolt sobs, his shoulders shaking. His entire body tenses, and Reiner waits a few beats, before bringing his hand down _hard_ ; it sounds like a crack of lightning, and Bertolt lets out a truly agonized wail.

“Please,” Bertolt whines, outright crying into the comforter, “stop. Please, I’ll be good.”

Reiner waits; Bertolt doesn’t say anything else.

“Shut up,” he hisses, landing another sharp slap; he uses his full strength this time, and the sound his hand makes when it makes contact startles even him. “You’ll never behave unless I beat it out of you, _Bertolt_.”

He throws in the full name with a flourish, and sure enough, Bertolt lets out something that sounds like a cross between a sob and a moan.

Reiner can tell that Bertolt is reaching his limit—even though it’s the first time they’ve done this to this extent. He grabs the lube and squeezes some into his hand, before reaching between Bertolt’s legs from behind and slowly stroking his cock which is so hard at this point that it looks almost painful.

Reiner speeds up his strokes, until finally, landing one final, lighter swat against the bright red, hyper-sensitive skin of Bertolt’s ass, and he screams, coming at the same time.

He sounds like an mortally wounded animal—shrill and agonized and raw—and then he completely collapses.

Reiner can see his shoulder blades strain as Bertolt’s arms are pulled by the restraints, not having the strength to pull himself up, and Reiner quickly reaches up to untie them. 

Bertolt is completely still, and for one terrible minute, Reiner wonders if he’s passed out; but Bertolt also knows his own limits, and he finally groans out some approximation of Reiner’s name.

Reiner grabs him and pulls him close, and Bertolt immediately huddles against Reiner’s chest. He’s shivering, and his face is covered in tears and snot.

Reiner immediately reaches for the box of tissues and the bag of candy he has ready—the sex shop attendant had given them some valuable advice when they bought the spreader bar.

“Open,” he says simply, and Bertolt opens his mouth and accepts the candy.

Bertolt sniffles a little as Reiner wipes his face off tenderly and presses a kiss to his forehead.

“You want to get under the covers?” he asks, keeping a tight embrace around Bertolt.

“Mhmm,” Bertolt hums, nodding his head slightly.

Reiner pulls back the sheets and settles with Bertolt in their bed, stroking his hair with one hand and rubbing his back with the other.

“How are you feeling?” he finally asks after a few minutes, when Bertolt has finally stopped shivering.

“That was amazing,” he whispers, and he sounds sleepy. “Thank you.”

“Here, have another piece of candy.”

Bertolt draws back to look at Reiner, blinking heavily, and then he leans forward with what is obviously a massive effort to kiss Reiner on the mouth.

“Are you okay?” he asks finally, bringing his hand around to rest against Reiner’s waist.

“I didn’t hurt you?” Reiner asks hesitantly.

“No,” Bertolt replies dreamily, cuddling closer, “that’s exactly what I wanted.” He hesitates, and then amends his statement. “Well, yeah, you did, but it felt _incredible_.”

Reiner laughs a little, relaxing, and slides his hand down to gently touch Bertolt’s ass. He immediately hisses and flinches.

“I’m not going to be able to sit down for a week,” he says, laughing weakly.

“I’ll put some stuff on it,” Reiner says, kissing Bertolt’s head. “Good thing you work standing up, though.”

Bertolt starts to laugh, and adds, “If you keep doing that, I’ll make sure every job I have for the rest of my life requires me to stand.”

“You really liked it that much?” Reiner asks, relaxing into the pillow.

“Uh,” Bertolt replies softly, stroking idle fingers against Reiner’s defined stomach, “you just fulfilled one of my ultimate fantasies. But...” he suddenly sounds unsure, “... did you like it?”

Reiner strokes his thumb along the edge of Bertolt’s hip and says softly, “That thing I said, about you looking really good all spread out for me?”

That earns a tired little arch of Bertolt’s back and a smile. “Yeah?”

“That wasn’t just me talking dirty.”

“That’s really hot,” Bertolt says, leaning forward to kiss Reiner on the mouth.

“I love you, Bertl,” Reiner replies, raising his fingers to stroke through Bertolt’s hair.

“Mm,” Bertolt hums sleepily, cuddling even closer against Reiner, “love you, too.”

“Uh...” Reiner starts, feeling self-conscious. “There’s something I want to try.”

That immediately gets Bertolt’s attention, and he pulls back a little to look at Reiner with unveiled delighted interest.

 _“What?”_ he breathes, as if he just set eyes on a particularly delectable meal.

“It’s nothing fancy,” Reiner replies, smiling sheepishly. 

“What is it?”

“I want you to fuck me,” he says, feeling the blush heat up his cheeks. “I mean... that’s it.”

“Really?” Bertolt asks, apparently touched. “You want me to top you?”

“Uh, yeah... if that’s okay.”

“Oh, it’s _more_ than okay,” Bertolt replies enthusiastically. He’s fingered and rimmed Reiner before, but never topped.

“I don’t know,” Reiner says quietly, “I’m curious. And I like how... um, intimate it is.”

Bertolt just looks at him for a second, and then pulls his hand up to kiss the palm.

There’s a reason that Reiner never fucked anyone before Bertolt; he’s more comfortable giving, but not so much with receiving. On the surface, he’s well-adjusted and supportive; but his demons lie much deeper.

He’s _very_ good at ignoring things that bother him, until they creep up suddenly and wreak havoc on his mind.

“Reiner?”

Reiner blinks as Bertolt’s voice cuts through his thoughts. He looks over to be faced with Bertolt’s concerned stare, looking at him anxiously.

Sometimes, Reiner wanders a little too far into his own mind; and it’s never a good thing to do before he goes to sleep.

“Don’t think of anything bad,” Bertolt immediately says. “Just think about... spanking.”

That gets Reiner to laugh, and he returns to the present. They just lie for a second, until Bertolt says quietly, “Are you sure you want me to top you? If just _thinking_ about it is going to take you to a bad mental place...” Bertolt’s voice trails off.

“It’s not that,” Reiner replies softly, heaving a sigh. “Sometimes, I think too much.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bertolt confirms, and taps Reiner on the head. “You need to stop spending so much time up here.”

“Looking at me, you wouldn’t think I spend much time up there, right?”

Bertolt laughs a little, and he kisses Reiner’s forehead. “Big beefy body builder, right?”

“Just the way you like it,” Reiner replies in-kind, delighted with Bertolt’s unusually playful mood. It must be the spanking endorphins.

There’s a short, comfortable bordering-on-blissful silence, until Bertolt props himself up on an elbow to look at Reiner thoughtfully.

Bertolt isn’t much for pillow talk—probably due to the fact that it takes him at least half-an-hour to recover from his more intense orgasms—but tonight he seems unusually chatty.

“If you’re really into this topping thing,” he says, reaching out with his free hand to trace over Reiner’s collar bones and defined bicep, “I want to make it special.”

“Uh, Bertl...” Reiner says, suddenly feeling embarrassed, “I’m not a princess who’s about to be deflowered.”

Bertolt makes a disgusted face and sticks out his tongue. “Please,” he says, pointing at Reiner, “never use the word ‘deflowered’ again.”

Reiner starts to laugh, and after a moment, very slowly starts to warm up to the idea of his first time being topped being made “special.”

“Besides,” Bertolt adds, “that whole thing about princesses being ‘deflowered’ is stupid, anyway. They were all probably sleeping around with their handmaids or something.”

Reiner is still laughing, and then starts to laugh harder. 

“I may be a high school dropout,” he adds, poking Reiner in the shoulder, “but I do read.”

Reiner’s face softens, and he rests a hand at Bertolt’s waist. “It doesn’t matter if you’re a high school dropout. You’re really smart.”

Bertolt makes a dismissive noise and withdraws into himself, and Reiner just kisses him.

“Anyway,” Reiner continues, “so, what? Are you going to light candles or something? Do I get a bubble bath?”

“We don’t have a bathtub,” Bertolt replies immediately. 

Reiner didn’t realize how seriously Bertolt was about this at first.

“Uh,” he says, feeling a little silly, “it’s not like I’m a virgin, Bertl.”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with being a virgin,” Bertolt replies, leaning forward to peck Reiner on the mouth. “I hate that term, anyway. It’s stupid. Am I virgin because I’ve never been with a girl?”

“Well, no,” Reiner answers logically, frowning.

“Virginity is bullshit. I mean, you know, the way you see it in movies and stuff,” Bertolt continues.

Reiner sighs. “Yeah, it kind of is.” He frowns and cocks his head to the side. “So, then, what’s all this stuff about candles and bubble baths?”

Bertolt starts to laugh, and captures Reiner in a tight hug.

“It’s special,” he says softly, “because it’s the first thing you’ve ever asked for.”

“No, it’s not,” Reiner protests immediately as he wraps his arms around Bertolt in return. “We’ve done lots of things.”

“Things I’ve wanted to do,” Bertolt says simply. “And it’s all been amazing... but you’ve never asked for anything that was just for you.”

Reiner thinks about it, and realizes that Bertolt is right. Everything they’ve done has been incredible—even the things that Reiner is hesitant about—but he’s just been along for the ride that is Bertolt’s very robust and creative kinky side.

“You know, Reiner,” Bertolt says very softly, “you don’t have to take care of everyone all the time. Let someone take care of you for a change.”

Reiner blinks; of all the things he thought Bertolt might say, that wasn’t it. In fact, the statement immediately plucks several chords inside of him that are actually rather uncomfortable.

“What does that have to do with topping me?” he retorts, trying to change the subject.

Bertolt isn’t having it, and looks Reiner straight in the eyes as he replies, “I want it to be special, I want to care of you, and I want it to be about _you_.”

“Well, if you don’t think it’s going to feel good for you, then never mind,” he says, frowning mildly. He knows he’s being an asshole now, but he’s scrambling to regain control of the situation.

“Reiner, don’t be an ass.” Bertolt flicks him in the arm, and Reiner immediately folds.

Reiner just studies Bertolt for a moment, but he doesn’t break eye contact.

“You’re not lighting scented candles,” he finally says. That earns a wide smile out of Bertolt, and he kisses Reiner’s forehead.

“What if they smell like the gym? It’ll be like going to your favorite place, _and_ having sex.”

“That’s gross, Bertl.”

Bertolt makes a disgusted face even as he makes the joke. “Ew, yeah, it is.”

“Is spanking you _always_ going to make you this excitable?”

Bertolt blushes a little, and then smiles. “Probably. Especially since you’re so good at it.”

They just stare at each other for a moment, and then Reiner smiles a little as he reaches out to stroke his fingers through Bertolt’s soft hair.

“I’m glad I did it right,” Reiner says softly as Bertolt rolls over settles against him, pulling one of Reiner’s arms around himself.

Reiner leans over to switch off the light, and kisses the back of Bertolt’s head as he cuddles up next to him.

“Even if you hadn’t done it right,” Bertolt says softly, kissing Reiner’s hand as Reiner drifts off to sleep, “that wouldn’t mean you did it wrong.”

Reiner hums and tightens his embrace; he's pretty sure that Bertolt's spanking endorphins have somehow entered his bloodstream.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is officially the most painfully sappy emo thing I've ever written in my life. But I hope my reasoning comes across.

Reiner is tired, grumpy, and he’s really glad there’s enough hot water to soothe his aching muscles.

When he’d gotten home, Bertolt had been out, so he’d hopped directly into the shower to wash off a day of grime from the stockroom. All he wants is Bertolt’s cooking, their bed, and Bertolt himself.

There’s a knock at the bathroom door, and the creak as it opens a few inches.

“Hi,” comes a cheerful voice, “you’re home.”

Reiner grunts out an affirmative and sighs.

“Tired?”

Reiner grunts again, but then forces himself to use words for Bertolt’s benefit. “Yeah,” he yawns. “Are you cooking anything?”

“Of course,” Bertolt replies mysteriously. The strange tone of voice piques Reiner’s interest, and he immediately becomes more coherent.

Pulling the shower curtain back, he peeks out to see Bertolt peeking in, and immediately smiles when he sees that familiar oval shaped face.

“C’mere,” he says, reaching out his hand.

Bertolt laughs, swinging the door open, and rolls his eyes. “You’re all wet.”

“Don’t care,” Reiner retorts immediately, leaning over for a kiss, which Bertolt meets him for halfway.

“I’m making something special,” he says, his adam’s apple bouncing as he swallows nervous, much to Reiner’s bafflement. “And I was thinking, tonight... do you want to,” he makes a vague motion with his fingers that could mean “jump off the building in a suicide pact” or “I’m making quiche.”

“Uh,” Reiner replies, cocking his head to the side, “what?”

Bertolt blushes a little, but he clarifies. “Do you want to try the thing we talked about?”

Reiner’s heart starts to beat a little faster; Bertolt is a sight for sore eyes tonight, and the more Reiner thinks about the proposition, the more appealing it becomes.

He smiles softly, nodding. “Yeah,” he agrees, “that sounds good.”

Bertolt immediately perks up from his shyness and looks excited. “I’m making you a special dinner.”

“Uh, okay,” Reiner says, eyes widening. “Every dinner you make is special, because it’s always like a gourmet meal.”

Bertolt shies away from the praise immediately, flushing and shaking his head, as he ducks out of the bathroom.

“Come to the kitchen when you’re done,” he call over his shoulder.

What awaits Reiner in the kitchen is nothing to be scoffed at, and actually meets the description “gourmet” in every meaning of the word, right down to the table settings.

And the candles in the middle.

And the specially folded napkins that resemble some kind of bird.

Bertolt is sitting across from him, looking downright amorous, as he just watches Reiner eat with a little smile on his face.

“Are you feeling okay?” Reiner asks with a raised eyebrow in between bites, trying to focus. The food is so good he’s relatively sure Bertolt must have put a hallucinogenic in it.

Bertolt’s face immediately falls, and he looks upset. “Do you not like it?” he asks meekly, staring down at the table.

“No!” Reiner exclaims, reaching across to put his hand over Bertolt’s. “It’s amazing, Bertl. But... is there a special occasion?”

“Well,” Bertolt replies, not moving Reiner’s hand and lifting his eyes hesitantly, “I want it to be. Because of, you know...” He makes the “possibly suicide or possibly quiche” hand gesture again, and Reiner can’t help but crack a smile.

“You can just say it,” he says. “I want to do it—it was _my_ request.”

Bertolt’s expression eases, and he nods. “Okay.” He regains his eager demeanor again, and rubs his fingers affectionately over Reiner’s hand. “I just want it to be special.”

Reiner nods, looking down at his mostly-empty plate. “Well,” he declares, smiling as he takes another bite, “you’re off to a good start.”

In fact, Reiner suddenly feels like he’s on a real date; he likes looking at Bertolt over soft candlelight, even though he knows it’s cheesy. Bertolt would never go for something so sentimental anyway; but it’s a nice feeling nonetheless.

When they’re both done, they leave the dishes for later, and Bertolt blows out the candles.

Reiner stifles his surprise when Bertolt takes his hand and leads him to the bedroom, smiling a little; he doesn’t want to make Bertolt feel like his efforts are unappreciated again. Nevertheless, Reiner is totally taken off guard.

Any questions he might have had, though, are answered when the bedroom door swings open.

It doesn’t even look like their bedroom. There’s a new duvet on the bed—the nice one that sometimes they bring out for special occasions or when they both need a little extra boost (Reiner has an affinity for fine linens he won’t admit to)—and a line of actual candles on the window sill.

The light is very dim, but Reiner is still relatively sure he’s right about what he thinks he’s seeing on the bed.

“Are—” Reiner gulps, stammering. “Are those _rose petals_?”

Bertolt just looks at him calmly, and then leans close.

“Yeah,” he says simply, and then presses a soft kiss against Reiner’s jaw. “Do you like them?”

He sounds nervous, as if unsure that what he’s doing will get approval. Regardless, when he presses another kiss against Reiner’s ear, licking the lobe and biting gently, it makes Reiner want to let go of his own nervousness.

“I...” Reiner starts, a blush traveling up his neck. He takes a deep breath and decides to run with it, though, since Bertolt has obviously thought this out far beyond anything Reiner has ever conceived of. “I do like it.”

“Good,” Bertolt replies softly. He hears a smile in Bertolt’s voice as two arms wrap around his torso, and then there are more slow, soft kisses pressed against his neck. 

“I know it’s cheesy,” he murmurs, resting his head against Reiner’s shoulder, “but I wanted it to be special. You know,” he laughs wryly, but sounds wistful at the same time, “the way it is in movies, and stupid stuff like that.”

“Why’d you think I’d want it that way?” Reiner asks curiously, nuzzling Bertolt’s temple to show he doesn’t mean it critically.

“Because I know you,” Bertolt says simply. “I know you never ask for things,” he continues, his voice very quiet, cautious almost, as he twines his fingers with Reiner’s. “You never let anyone take care of you, never indulge yourself in anything.”

Reiner stiffens, but he doesn’t pull away; nevertheless, it’s painful, the way Bertolt’s words make his heart both flutter, but also squeeze achingly tight. 

“You don’t need to take care of me,” he whispers, feeling suddenly laid bare in ways he’s not used to.

“Everyone needs to be taken care of sometimes,” Bertolt replies gently, pulling Reiner into a hug and rubbing his back soothingly. 

“I mean, you have,” Reiner replies immediately, “you always have. But... just...”

“Not like this, though,” Bertolt finishes, resting his head on Reiner’s shoulder. “I know. Just give it a chance, okay?”

Reiner sighs in defeat. “You’re going to be bored out of your mind.”

Bertolt draws back, looking Reiner right in the eyes. “Reiner,” he says quietly, shaking his head as he runs gentle fingers over the Reiner’s features, “we could fuck on rose petals for the rest of our lives, and I would never be bored.”

That gets Reiner to laugh, and he shakes his head. “But you’d miss the spanking.”

Bertolt laughs, too, and he shrugs minutely. “Well, maybe a little.” His expression grows more serious, though, as he cups Reiner’s face in his hands. “Remember when we went to junior prom?”

Reiner rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Of course I remember. Worst night,” he says, grimacing. Then he stops, though, and gives a little bittersweet smile. “Well... also the best night.”

Bertolt bumps his forehead gently against Reiner’s, before pulling away. “Agreed. But that’s not the part I was going to ask about.” 

Reiner looks at him curiously, tilting his head to the side. “What about it?”

“Well,” Bertolt starts, “did you want to slow dance?”

“I didn’t want to dance with Christa,” Reiner immediately replies, his voice quiet. He feels a cold feeling of guilt settle into his gut. “I—”

“That’s not what I meant,” Bertolt interjects gently. “I mean did you want to slow dance? In general?”

Reiner looks up to meet Bertolt’s eyes, unsure about where this conversation is going. 

“Well...” he bites his lip, thinking back to that night. All he could think about before they even got to the gym was how much he wanted to dance with Bertolt—just the two of them—together.

“Yeah,” he replies softly after a minute of deliberation, “I did. With you.”

An emotion flickers in Bertolt’s eyes, and he leans forward to kiss Reiner. “You like this kind of stuff,” he says simply.

“What stuff?” Reiner asks self-consciously, turning his eyes down. “Cheesy stupid shit that a girl would like?”

“No,” Bertolt murmurs, “nice stuff. Traditional stuff that I never even thought about.” He sighs a little, and hesitates.

“What?” Reiner prompts, curious about what Bertolt wants to say.

“I never thought about it, because I never thought that could happen for someone like me,” he admits. “I mean, I’m not saying I want flowers and chocolates or something.” He laughs wryly with a shrug.

“I’d buy you flowers,” Reiner says very sincerely, staring at Bertolt intensely. “I’d do all that stuff.”

“Well, why haven’t you?” Bertolt asks, then cringes. “I don’t mean that the way it sounds. I mean, why haven’t you, if it’s something you _wanted_ to do?” 

“I figured you’d think it was stupid,” Reiner replies immediately, and then blinks.

Bertolt gives him a meaningful look, his eyebrow quirked ever so slightly, as if to say: _see what I mean?_

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Bertolt replies simply, pulling Reiner close and hugging him. “I thought you’d like rose petals, and um...” he rubs Reiner’s back, “the candles also might be scented. Possibly.”

Reiner starts to laugh softly, and draws back to cup Bertolt’s face. “I do like that kind of stuff,” he finally confesses, blushing slightly. “But... isn’t this what girls do?”

Bertolt makes a dismissive sound. “Who cares who does it? If you were a girl,” he says, raising an eyebrow playfully, “I don’t think we’d be standing in a bedroom we share and have dirty sex in.”

Reiner gives a loud laugh, shaking his head; Bertolt smiles a little, too , but then the expression fades as he gives Reiner a long, serious look.

“Or,” he says after a moment, reaching up to stroke Reiner’s cheek, “I’d just have to figure out what would happen if I fell in love with a woman, when I like men.”

Reiner’s eyes widen, and he presses his hand over the back of Bertolt’s; for once, he has nothing to retort with.

There’s a few moments of silence, and finally, he heaves a long sigh.

“All right,” he murmurs, “I’ll let you... take care of me.”

Bertolt’s face lights up, and he smiles so warmly, it makes Reiner’s heart beat faster. Seeing Bertolt smile like this—truly unreserved and content—is a rare occurrence.

He kisses Reiner through the smile, and then draws away to go light a few of the candles on the window sill. Reiner immediately flushes, but he just tries to relax and let Bertolt lead the way. It’s a strange feeling, and a little startling, but not altogether unpleasant.

Instead, he watches Bertolt; the way he strikes the match with his long, deft fingers and bends slightly to light the candles, his soft, chestnut hair, and his bare shoulders.

Reiner never knew it was possible to love someone this much until he realized he’d been in love with Bertolt for a long time.

“I love you,” he says suddenly, and Bertolt looks over his shoulder to smile that smile again.

“I love you, too, Reiner,” he replies immediately, not realizing the gravity of the moment, as he blows out the match. The scent of flowers fills the air, but it’s not suffocating or unpleasant; in fact, Reiner likes it. He likes the rose petals, too.

Bertolt was right—he does like this stuff, more than he’s been willing to admit.

“Come to bed,” Bertolt says simply, holding out his hand as he sits down on the edge of the mattress. It dips, and Reiner nods, pulling off his shirt and dropping it on the floor as he goes to Bertolt.

They end up with Bertolt on top, kissing Reiner’s neck, taking his time with their fingers clasped. Reiner can feel the rose petals under his back and the air smells nice, and the weight of Bertolt’s body and familiar smell of his skin is reassuring.

He knows exactly where to go: kisses along Reiner’s throat, a swipe of tongue down his left clavicle, and then lots of attention to his nipples which makes Reiner buck and groan, hands twisting in Bertolt’s hair.

“Bertl,” moans, his back arching up against Bertolt’s mouth, “feels good.” 

Bertolt keeps going, using one hand to play with Reiner’s nipples, his mouth traveling downward to kiss at Reiner’s hips. He stays there a long time, exploring every curve of muscle and jut of bone, kissing and licking.

“Love your hips,” he murmurs, stroking over one with his thumb as he kisses the other.

Reiner actually never knew that Bertolt loved his hips; he smiles a little, and everything outside the dim, fragrant bedroom feels like it doesn’t even exist anymore.

Bertolt undoes Reiner’s jeans and pulls them down his legs along with the underwear, dropping them on the ground. He sighs as he pushes his own pants off, as if it’s a relief to be naked, and then situates himself between Reiner’s legs.

“Is this okay?” he asks, reaching down to grab something off the floor and holding it up for Reiner to see. It’s Reiner’s favorite vibrator. “It’ll just help get you ready.”

Reiner chuckles a little, giving him an affection look. “I may like romance, Bertl,” he quips, “but I like that vibrator just as much.”

Bertolt laughs as he takes the toy out of its box, throwing a few condoms down on the bed at the same time, and then bends Reiner’s knees up.

“Lie back,” he says softly, “and just enjoy yourself.”

Reiner sighs and does as asked, lying his head against the pillow and closing his eyes.

He gasps slightly as he feels Bertolt kiss up his inner thighs, taking his time, covering every inch of skin possible. His lips are soft and unhurried, and Reiner reaches down to run his fingertips over Bertolt’s soft, silky hair.

“I love your hair,” he murmurs, not feeling embarrassed now. “I always have.”

Bertolt stops to look up at him, but his gaze is soft and affectionate. “I like it when you touch my hair, too.”

Reiner smiles at him a little, and then gasps as Bertolt shifts to pull Reiner’s knees up over his shoulders.

Reiner knows what’s coming next, and he shivers as he feels Bertolt’s tongue run wetly along the space between his cock and leg. 

Normally, Bertolt would invite Reiner to fuck his mouth, go fast and quick and dirty with that unbelievable tongue of his. And normally, Reiner would happily oblige; but now, he goes slow, kissing the tip of Reiner’s cock and darting his tongue out to lick at the precome start to well there.

“Bertl,” Reiner gasps, his entire body tensing, “your mouth...”

He swears he can _feel_ Bertolt smile around his cock as he slides his mouth over it, letting Reiner feel every inch, and then does some kind of crazy swirling thing with his tongue that never fails to send tremors through Reiner’s entire body.

To Reiner’s surprise, though, Bertolt keeps it slow, and then reaches up his hand.

He pulls back to look up at Reiner, his face flushed and lips swollen, and says with his own vulnerable expression, “Hold my hand?”

Reiner feels an emotion he can’t control rise and swallow him, and he immediately reaches out to squeeze Bertolt’s hand. His fingers are strong and sure as he grips Reiner’s hand, and goes back to what he was doing.

He starts to bob his head—even Bertolt admits he’s good at this without much argument—and Reiner doesn’t hold back his moans. He pants and arches and whines, holding tight to Bertolt’s hand the entire time.

He didn’t think things could get any more intimate with Bertolt than they already are, given that they practically live inside each other’s pockets. However, as he hears Bertolt moaning around his cock, fingers slipping down behind to tease his entrance, he realizes that he was wrong.

His cock hits the back of Bertolt’s throat, and he shivers; Bertolt knows the action, so he draws back before Reiner can fall over the edge and come.

“You always taste good,” he murmurs, looking up at Reiner with an almost shy expression, green eyes raised ever so slightly. He still hasn’t let go of Reiner’s hand.

Reiner smiles at him and pulls him up for a kiss; he can taste himself on Bertolt’s tongue, and he’s completely immersed in this quiet, otherworldly universe they’ve created. Everything is warm—the glow of the candles, Bertolt’s body, even Reiner’s flushed skin—and perfect.

“I’m going to get the vibrator,” he says, and Reiner gives him a lazy, happy nod.

Bertolt grabs the vibrator from the end of the bed, rolling a condom over it; then slicks some lube over his own fingers.

Reiner doesn’t need to be talked through this part; they’ve done it enough times that it just seems like any other bedroom activity at this point.

Still, it never fails to make him tremble in anticipation.

“I think your body is beautiful,” Bertolt blurts out, and then looks over at Reiner with an embarrassed expression, blushing a little. “I mean...”

“Thanks,” Reiner says softly, feeling a blush creep up his neck. He’s not used to Bertolt paying him such open compliments. “You don’t have to say stuff like that if you don’t want to, though,” he adds, feeling a little silly for liking it so much.

“No, it’s not that,” Bertolt replies, shaking his head quickly. “I just... I never could.”

“You never could?”

“I just felt stupid,” Bertolt explains, the blush becoming more pronounced. “But if you like it...”

“I do,” Reiner replies simply.

Bertolt takes his hand unexpectedly and kisses the palm, then rubs his cheek against it tenderly.

“Love you, Bertl,” Reiner says softly. Bertolt nods at him, an obvious lump in his throat, before releasing Reiner’s hand.

He lies down next to Reiner, sidling up to press an open-mouthed kiss to his lips, and reach down between his legs.

Reiner moans into the kiss as he feels Bertolt slick fingers against his entrance; they tease him, index finger making slippery circles that create little jolts of pleasure.

“Okay?” Bertolt asks, breaking the kiss.

“Yeah,” Reiner murmurs, pulling his knees up to make it easier for Bertolt to reach. “Go ahead.”

Bertolt nods and starts to kiss down Reiner’s body, stopping at his hips and nipping a little as he presses a finger in. Reiner gasps at the sensation—both of Bertolt’s teeth, and of the penetration—and his fingers immediately wind in the soft hair.

“Yes,” is all he can say, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. “Bertl...” he sucks in a sharp breath as he feels Bertolt’s finger push deeper, but he’s relaxed and ready.

It goes on for a long time, and it’s nice. There’s an urgency to it, but it’s not the same type as he’s used to—intense and desperate most of the time—that leads to passionate fucking. This is calmer and almost meditative, the way that Bertolt kisses his skin and slowly works his fingers into Reiner’s body, letting him relax in his own time.

Reiner’s cock is aching, and he wants Bertolt to use the vibrator; he wants something filling him bigger than Bertolt’s fingers, and he whimpers quietly.

“You ready?” Bertolt immediately asks, pulling his fingers out to kiss back up to Reiner’s face.

“Yeah,” he says softly, feeling open and wet and slick. They haven’t even done much yet, but suddenly, Reiner feels overwhelmed. He grabs Bertolt who’s moved to sit up, and pulls him close, both arms wrapped around him tightly.

“Are you okay?” Bertolt asks, obviously startled as he immediately returns the embrace.

“Yeah,” Reiner repeats in a whisper. “Just... a lot.”

“Okay,” Bertolt replies soothingly. “Do you want to stop?”

Reiner shakes his head with a firm, “No.” Bertolt pulls away after a moment to study him carefully, but then nods, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead.

Bertolt keeps his arms around Reiner for a few more moments, and then pulls away when Reiner lets go. He goes to the end of the bed to retrieve the vibrator, lubing it up.

As he waits, Reiner closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, idly dragging his hands through the wilting rose petals. They still look nice, and he brings a few up to brush them over his lips; they’re soft and fragrant, and he looks down at Bertolt, only to realize he’s being stared at.

When he meets two intense green eyes, he smiles a little; Bertolt smiles back, and then positions himself between Reiner’s legs again to go back to work on his cock. It doesn’t take much time for Bertolt to ease the vibrator into Reiner’s ass, and then start to slide it in and out slowly.

It’s absolute bliss—Bertolt’s mouth, the slow slide of the vibrator, and then the buzz that knocks Reiner’s prostate every once in a while—and he moans, hands fisting in the petals and bed clothes, trying to keep his hips still as everything below his waist seems to hum. There are too many sensations to even keep track of; he can hear the undulating buzz of the vibrator as it slides in and out of him, and he lets out an outright wail.

“I want you in me,” he gasps, “Bertl...”

Bertolt’s head pops up in surprise at the desperation in Reiner’s voice, and his gaze softens.

“Okay,” he nods. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Yeah,” Reiner replies, reaching out for Bertolt; Bertolt catches his hand and squeezes, before letting go.

He slides the vibrator out and puts it to the side, then moves to get a condom.

“Can we do it without that?” Reiner asks suddenly.

Bertolt’s eyes widen. “Um,” he says, but then a thoughtful look comes over his face, “I mean...” he starts, shrugging a little, “there’s no reason not to, if you want me to.” 

Reiner generally wears a condom when he’s topping Bertolt, although they don’t do it all the time; but there’s something about Bertolt barebacking him that appeals to Reiner right now. 

“I want you to,” he says. “I want to feel what it’s like.”

Bertolt shrugs. “Okay,” he agrees. Then, a curious look passes over his face. “I’ve never done it like that.”

As soon as the words are out, he goes a little pale, and looks at Reiner in mortification. “I mean...”

“Bertl,” Reiner says reassuringly, sitting up to reach out and stroke Bertolt’s shoulder, “I know you’ve done this before. It’s fine.”

Bertolt blinks at him owlishly, and then swallows hard. “Oh,” he replies in a small voice, “I mean, I guess I kind of inferred that, didn’t I?”

Reiner laughs a little, pulling him into a hug. “Yeah, but I don’t care. We talked about that a long time ago—it doesn’t bother me.” He draws away, looking down into his lap self-consciously, “I’m way more inexperienced than you, and I know it.”

Bertolt doesn’t argue; instead, he pushes Reiner onto his back again and gets on top again, pressing a slow kiss against his lips.

“Okay,” he says, “if it hurts, tell me immediately, because it shouldn’t.”

Reiner’s mouth is suddenly dry, and he swallows a few times. “Y-yeah,” he says, his eyes wide. “I’m a little nervous.”

Bertolt nuzzles Reiner’s cheek with his own. “It’ll be like the teen movie prom night we never had.”

Reiner just pulls away to stare at him for a moment, mouth hanging open slightly, as a teasing little smile plays over Bertolt’s features. 

“You are such a jerk,” Reiner blurts out, laughing even as he says it, poking Bertolt in the arm.

“Don’t be nervous,” Bertolt says softly. “It’ll feel good, and if it doesn’t, I’ll stop and we’ll try again another time.”

Reiner nods, trying not to bite his lip, but he means it; he trusts Bertolt.

Bertolt gives a firm nod, and then moves south to take care of Reiner’s flagging erection.

All it takes is a few good sucks, and Reiner is trembling again, his entire body strung tight with arousal.

Bertolt lubes up his cock generously, and then moves forward to hook Reiner’s knees over his shoulders, positioning himself at Reiner’s entrance.

Reiner feels hot and ready now; he wants Bertolt in him. It feels good, being this close, having Bertolt completely in control.

“Ready?” Bertolt asks.

Reiner nods, and then everything becomes a little different once he feels the size of what Bertolt’s about to put inside him.

He hisses, blowing air through his teeth, and immediately tenses.

“Uh, Reiner?” Bertolt asks, looking hesitant. “I haven’t actually done anything yet.”

“I thought...” he’s staring at Bertolt, and he can feel his face burning. “Um, it’s kind of big.”

To his surprise, Bertolt starts to laugh, and he presses his lips against Reiner’s cheek and kisses him.

“We don’t _have_ to do this,” he says softly, nuzzling Reiner’s face, “if you change your mind. I’ll finish the blowjob right now and get you off, and then we can fall asleep, and I’ll make breakfast for you tomorrow.”

“No,” Reiner says stubbornly, “I want you to.”

“You have to relax, then,” Bertolt says, slipping his fingers down to Reiner’s entrance.

Reiner nods, and lets Bertolt slip two fingers back into him to tease his prostate; the orgasmic feelings that immediately rush through him help to calm his anxiety, and he moans softly.

The fact is that he’s already turned on and comfortable with two fingers; he’s just nervous all over again. The bottom line is that cocks are not fingers or vibrators; but Bertolt knows what he’s doing. Reiner knows, too, that Bertolt will take care of him.

“Okay,” Reiner says, “try it again.”

This time, when Bertolt lines himself up, Reiner concentrates on remaining calm and relaxed.

“Ready?” Bertolt asks.

“Yeah,” Reiner confirms, nodding. He gasps as he feels the head of Bertolt’s cock push forward and force him open; it’s slick and doesn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. It’s a little uncomfortable at first, but nothing he can’t handle.

It doesn’t even feel particularly strange, since he’s had enough foreign objects up his ass at this point to be accustomed to that sensation, but then Bertolt’s voice cuts through his thoughts. 

“Breathe, Reiner,” he says, staying perfectly still.

Reiner takes a deep, steady breath, and lets it out slowly.

“Okay,” he says, nodding, and Bertolt pushes in a little further. The little gasp he gives as the head slides in sends a jolt of arousal right to Reiner’s cock; and then, suddenly, the realization seems to increase the moment tenfold, when Reiner really stops and thinks about the fact that Bertolt is inside him.

“Ah,” he hisses, throwing his head back, “Bertl...”

“Are you okay?” Bertolt asks immediately, his voice taxed but urgent.

“Yeah,” Reiner says again, nodding, “just keep going.”

After a few false starts and stops, Bertolt is completely in, and then he just stays there, waiting for Reiner to adjust.

Reiner finally groans as he feels Bertolt’s cock slide home, and he relaxes his body.

“Move a little,” he says, reaching for Bertolt, suddenly feeling very needy.

Apparently, Bertolt recognizes the look, and immediately bends to let Reiner hang onto his upper arm.

He slowly shifts his hips, and Reiner gasps; he can feel Bertolt’s cock stretching him. His hips start to very slowly and gingerly move in a rhythm, and Reiner stays relaxed, letting Bertolt lead the pace.

It’s intoxicating now, seeing Bertolt’s eyes slip shut with a little frown of concentration.

“Good?” he asks, his voice carefully controlled.

“Yeah,” Reiner hisses, and then lets out a sharp cry.

He’s expecting things to get fast, messy, dirty; but instead, Bertolt stays slow, pressing their lips together as he moves his hips.

“I love you,” he murmurs, biting gently at Reiner’s lower lip. “You feel so good.”

Reiner’s legs shake as he keeps them wrapped about Bertolt, but he manages to grit out, “You’re okay going this slow?”

Bertolt smiles at him a little, kissing his forehead. “Do you like this?” he asks softly.

Reiner flushes a little, but he nods. “Yeah,” he whispers, wrapping his arms tightly around Bertolt, “it feels good... with you.” 

“Mm,” Bertolt hums, pressing his face against Reiner’s neck, “just relax. Do you feel me?”

“Yeah,” Reiner murmurs, “feel your cock in me.”

“Good,” Bertolt replies, “you’re nice and tight—perfect.” His breath catches and he gasps as Reiner tilts his hips slightly, making Bertolt’s cock slide deeper. “You feel fucking perfect, Reiner,” he rasps, reaching down to clasp their fingers together.

Sweat is starting to bead on Bertolt’s forehead, the stretch of Reiner’s legs over his shoulders is starting to burn a little, and they’re both completely debauched.

Everything feels perfect and good and right.

“Want you to...” he gasps, and Bertolt looks at him attentively.

“Yeah?” he asks softly.

“Want you to come inside of me,” Reiner says softly. 

Bertolt nods his head rapidly, gasping.

They get into a rhythm, and soon, Bertolt’s hips are moving faster. It’s not jerky, though; there’s no slapping skin, no hard touches. It’s only them staring into each other’s eyes with their mouths pressed together, as if tired of kissing, but still needing to be close.

Bertolt groans, his mouth dropping open as he his body tenses; Reiner knows Bertolt is about to come. It’s the way Bertolt shivers, the familiar feeling of how his hand tightens in Reiner’s and his eyes screw shut; Reiner realizes he knows this feeling better than he knows his own orgasms.

“F-fuck,” Bertolt whispers, stiffening as his hips jerk and shake, “I’m coming, fuck, Reiner...” The name turns into a loud, slurred moan, and Bertolt’s mouth hangs open as he orgasms.

His face is beautiful, and Reiner has to fight tears back; he doesn’t know why it’s so intense this time, but it is. They’ve had sex lots of times, but this is different.

Maybe because this time, they’re falling apart together.

“So good,” Bertolt murmurs, going limp. “Reiner, god, oh god...”

“Bertl,” Reiner replies softly as Bertolt slips out of him. He’s about to gather Bertolt into his arms, but before he can, Bertolt does it for him.

“Fuck my thighs,” Bertolt says, fumbling for the lube and clumsily opening it, smearing lube over Reiner’s cock. “I want to feel it.” He’s breathless and wanton, and Reiner saves the sound of Bertolt’s voice in his memory.

Reiner flips their positions—the lube and come dripping out of him actually feeling strangely intimate, maybe because it’s Bertolt’s—and pushes his cock in between Bertolt’s thighs.

It doesn’t take much—the slick pressure and fact that it’s _Bertolt_ helping him along—and he comes with a keening noise in between Bertolt’s thighs.

Finally, they collapse against each other; but just as quickly, Bertolt moves to pull Reiner against him, head tucked under Bertolt’s chin, and rubs his back.

They lie like that for a long time, catching their breath together, until finally, Bertolt says softly, “Are you okay?”

“More than okay,” Reiner replies immediately, his voice soft. He doesn’t move an inch, though, and just lets Bertolt hold him.

Bertolt gives a sated sigh, and idly runs his fingers over Reiner’s short hair.

“Wow,” he finally says. Reiner gives a tired laugh, nodding in agreement. “Did I...” he starts, trailing off, before trying again. “Did I do all right? Did that feel okay?”

“ _Okay?_ ” Reiner laughs quietly. “I don’t think I have the words, Bertl.”

Bertolt makes a happy sound, and then shifts so he can shimmy down and lie in front of Reiner.

Their eyes meet, and Reiner immediately brushes the hair out of Bertolt’s sweat-damp forehead.

“You want to shower?” he asks quietly, a little smile on his face as he leans forward to press a soft kiss to Bertolt’s mouth. 

Bertolt offers up a sleepy grin. “I bought bubble bath stuff.”

“Oh my god,” Reiner groans, laughing as he covers his face with his arm. “We don’t even have a bathtub.”

“I’ll wash your back. It’ll be romantic. I bought champagne, too.”

“Bertl,” Reiner says, opening his eyes, his face softening as he rests his hand against Bertolt’s cheek.

“Hm?” Bertolt hums, looking decidedly sleepy.

“I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Bertolt echoes, smiling lazily and pressing his hand over Reiner’s.

There’s a short silence, and then Reiner’s voice is timid as he asks, “Will you let me take you to dinner tomorrow?” 

Bertolt’s eyes open wide, attentive now, and he just stares. “You mean, like...”

“A date,” Reiner confirms, nodding. He clears his throat in embarrassment, but keeps talking. “With flowers.” He gives a firm nod, as if trying to convince himself this is an acceptable request.

“What if someone gives us a hard time?” Bertolt asks nervously, biting his lip. “I mean, fuck them, but I don’t want it to ruin it.”

“Then,” Reiner says, letting the delight show on his face that Bertolt basically just said yes, “we’ll come back here, and I’ll put on some music, and we can dance together.” He points his finger at Bertolt, smiling a little. “And this time, I won’t fuck it up.”

Bertolt gives him a little smile, and if Reiner’s not mistaken, there are a few tears there.

“Okay,” he replies in a whispery voice.

“And then,” Reiner adds, gathering Bertolt into his arms in a firm embrace, “I’ll spank you until you cry, because you’ve been bad.”

Bertolt snuggles up against him, laughing softly. “You ready for that bubble bath shower?”

“Yeah,” Reiner replies softly, “I am.”


End file.
